


Couples Costume

by Jenanigans1207



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, Gay Panic, Halloween, Idiots in Love, Lance is gorgeous, M/M, Pining, couples costume, keith is just a gay disaster, so much pining, they're just bad at emotions, which is to say that it's normal keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 13:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21282794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenanigans1207/pseuds/Jenanigans1207
Summary: “What if we got a matching costume?” Lance finally spoke back up, drawing Keith out of his reverie. “I’d plan the whole thing and get all the pieces, all you’d need to do is wear whatever I bring you!”
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 194





	Couples Costume

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadiSadi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadiSadi/gifts).

> I wrote this for my darling Lyndi because Halloween is one of her favorite holidays and I wanted to do something for her!

One of the things that Keith disliked the most was malls. 

** **

He wasn’t a fan of the crowds, mostly, but he also couldn’t find a reason to go when everything existed online right at his fingertips. In fact, he would go so far as to say that he outright avoided the mall. There were only two things that could make him go to the mall with only minimal complaints: an exclusive item that he couldn’t get anywhere else, or someone special asking.

** **

Someone special who, as it turned out, had perfected the puppy dog eyes.

** **

Honestly, what was he supposed to say when Lance was tugging on his sleeve, pleading with his big blue eyes for Keith to accompany him to the mall so he could pick out a Halloween costume? He had caved almost immediately, barely able to even _consider_ saying no. He was over tired from studying all day, though. That was his excuse and he was sticking to it.

** **

Either way, he found himself packed tightly against Lance’s side as they wandered their way through the mall, dodging people as they went. Rather,  _ Keith _ was dodging people as they went. Lance was busy window shopping, stopping constantly to peer inside a store and see what they had to offer. The guy was such a hazard that Keith practically had to steer him through the mall, hand at the small of his back, guiding with just a gentle pressure for guidance.

** **

No, his hand definitely wasn’t shaking at the touch of Lance’s skin when he raised his arm to point and the hem of his hoodie rose up a little too high. And  _ no _ , his mouth definitely  _ wasn’t _ dry when Lance glanced back over his shoulder and their eyes met.

** **

Lance, for all it was worth, didn’t seem too bothered by the hand at his back. In fact, he seemed to relish in it. It seems to give him the permission he needs to be careless— because he trusts that Keith would guide him, that Keith had his back, the way he always did.

** **

“What are you dressing up as?” Lance asked for probably the millionth time as they enter one of the stores, finally— mercifully— getting out of the main ebb and flow of the mall and getting some space to move.

** **

With a level of unwavering patience that Keith literally could not muster for anyone else, he replied for probably the millionth time, “Nothing, I’m not dressing up. I never do.”

** **

“But that’s just no fun!” Lance nearly whines as he winds his way to the back of the store where the Halloween display is up in full force. “We’re headed to a party that day! You can’t just show up in your normal clothes!”

** **

“What’s wrong with my normal clothes?” Keith counters, falling a few steps behind Lance as he moves into the narrower aisles.

** **

“Nothing,” Lance replies mildly, but Keith doesn’t miss the grin on his lips, “If you want to come across as a college student who doesn’t give a damn about anything.”

** **

“Weirdly enough,” Keith counters, shoving Lance lightly between the shoulder blades and trying not to relish the breathy laugh Lance gives in response too much, “I  _ am _ a college kid who doesn’t give a damn about anything.”

** **

Lance pauses then and turns to fully face Keith. It’s clear by the look on his face that he has something on his mind but Keith can’t quite tell what it is. A moment passes where they continue to just look at each other, Lance clearly trying to decide what to do with whatever thought has suddenly gripped him. 

** **

“You give a damn about me,” He finally says, but the expression on his face hasn’t changed and Keith isn’t sure what to do with this.

** **

“ _ Half _ a damn,” Keith corrects, but it’s clearly teasing. “At best.”

** **

This gets a shake of the head and a laugh from Lance and Keith tries to bite back against the smile that is forming at the corner of his lips again. He pretends to study the items on the shelf next to him while he waits for the rest of Lance’s ideas to come out. He’s not unaccustomed to this— Lance often has things that he struggles to word properly. Usually it because he’s laughing too hard at something to get the words out right, but not always. Keith can easily recognize that there’s more to be said— the air between them is heavy with the unspoken words— because he can read Lance like a book, despite only meeting him a little over a year earlier.

** **

Whenever people see the two of them together, they assume one of two things: they are childhood best friends, or they’re dating. Apparently their understanding of each other and interactions with each other drive home the idea that they are closer than close. And truthfully, they are. But truthfully, they also didn’t meet until the first day of their freshman year of college. They don’t have some long back story, they didn’t know each other for years. They got seated next to each other on the first day of class and Lance had to ask Keith to borrow a pencil. And, well, as the cliche goes, the rest was history.

** **

Well, that’s not exactly true. It was a few months before they spoke outside of class, and then a few more weeks before they hung out outside of class. And then one night, Lance had shown up at Keith’s dorm in the middle of the night, soaking wet from the rain and trembling to his very core. Keith wouldn’t deny that he’d felt a pull towards Lance from the very beginning, but he’d assumed that it was one-sided and that Lance did not experience such a thing so he’d written it off. But when Lance’s explanation was that he’d had a ‘ _ bad day _ ’ and needed comfort, Keith knew the weird feeling was mutual.

** **

And  _ then _ the rest truly  _ was _ history.

** **

“What if we got a matching costume?” Lance finally spoke back up, drawing Keith out of his reverie. “I’d plan the whole thing and get all the pieces, all you’d need to do is wear whatever I bring you!”   


“You’re  _ that _ upset that I don’t want to wear a costume?” Keith asked, trying his best to ignore the weird fluttery feeling in his chest. Trying his best to deflect. Because a  _ matching _ costume sounds awfully close to a  _ couples  _ costume and no, his heart rate definitely wasn’t spiking at the thought of that.

** **

Lance was frowning now, looking back at him with his head tilted slightly to the side. “It’s Halloween,” He said, as if that should explain everything.

** **

It didn’t.

** **

But the damn puppy dog eyes were back and Keith already knew he was powerless against them. (He hadn’t been studying today, hadn’t even cracked open a textbook, but he was  _ still _ tired from all of his studying yesterday. Obviously.)

** **

With a dramatic sigh, Keith rolled his eyes. It was all Lance needed to recognize that he’d conceded, and a large smile replaced his frown almost instantly. “What do you have in mind?”

** **

And then Lance was off, rambling any and every idea that crossed his mind. Some of his ideas were  _ alright _ — Mario and Luigi or the Ghostbusters. Some of his ideas were idiotic— ketchup and mustard or one of those ludicrous two-person unicorn costumes. And some of his ideas were just… no. Morticia and Gomez Addams? Jack and Rose from titanic? Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what Lance was  _ thinking _ . 

** **

(Keith, on the other hand, was still thinking that those sounded  _ really, incredibly similar _ to couple costumes, but he wasn’t giving the thought the attention it desired.)

** **

“If you’re going to suggest ideas like that,” Keith cut Lance off as he elaborated on how exactly they would pull off Jack and Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas, his mind still a few steps behind, snagging constantly on the idea it so desperately wanted to form. “Why don’t we just go all the way? Star quarterback and head cheerleader.”

** **

He was joking.  _ God _ was he ever joking. Seriously, was one of them going to wear a cheerleader costume? But saying it did seem to catch Lance off guard and he paused in his elaborate scheme for how they would do the necessary face paint to simply gape at Keith for a moment. It was satisfying, to say the least, to see Lance’s eyes get big and wide as he just stared. And, mercifully, it seemed to have sated the ridiculous ideas in his mind, even if only temporarily.

** **

“But actually,” Keith amended after a moment, “You can pick. I don’t care what it is, as long as it’s within reason.”

** **

And then he turned to walk further down the aisle, missing the way a smile curled at the edges of Lance’s mouth as he finally pulled himself back together. 

** **

* * *

** **

The day of the party came and, honestly, Keith had completely forgotten that he’d agreed to dress up. Lance hadn’t brought it back up so at first he’d assumed that Lance had given up on it. And then, well, the idea had just slipped from his mind completely. (He  _ had _ spent a brief amount of time jokingly entertaining Lance’s ideas— in private, of course— picturing each of them in the costumes he had listed, but he wouldn’t own up to that if pressed.)

** **

And then, of course, it all came rushing back to him the moment he opened his dorm door after a series of intricate knocks to find Lance standing on the other side.

** **

Clad in a cheerleader uniform.

** **

Holding out a football jersey into the space between the two of them.

** **

Keith’s mind slammed on the brakes, screeching to a halt. He was fairly certain his jaw was actually on the floor, but he couldn’t focus enough on that to find out for sure. Was there some law against showing off that much skin? There should be. At least, there should be a law against  _ Lance _ showing off that much skin… to anyone other than Keith.

** **

(Breathe, Keith reminds himself.  _ Breathe _ . Because, if he dies now, he won’t get to continue staring at Lance like this.)

** **

The uniform is skimpy. Is there a word that means even less fabric that skimpy? If there is, Keith would use it right now. The skirt is so mini it barely covers Lance’s ass and the crop top ends so high up on his torso that his entire midriff is exposed. His whole lean, toned midriff. Keith tries to swallow but his mouth is so very dry that there’s nothing there to swallow. The uniform itself is a mix of blue and red and the colors are incredibly flattering on Lance, but Keith certainly isn’t staring at that.

** **

(But he  _ is _ staring. He’s definitely staring.)

** **

After a few more moments of lingering silence, Lance clears his throat and gestures to the jersey he’s holding out between the two of them and Keith manages to finally— with a level of self control that he didn’t know he had— snap his eyes back up to Lance’s face to see that he’s smiling almost shyly. And god damn everything if it isn’t one of the most endearing things Keith has ever laid his eyes upon. Because the uniform is anything but shy. It’s bold, it’s out there, it’s the exact opposite of shy. But the little hesitancy in Lance’s smile just makes Keith’s heart ache in his chest, makes him want to reach out and comfort Lance.

** **

“Are you going to take your part of the costume?” He asks, stepping forward and pressing the jersey against Keith’s chest. And jesus, his hand is so warm Keith can feel it through the jersey and the fabric of his own shirt.

** **

(Keith has a new idea. Instead of going as the star quarterback— which he’s assuming is his costume based on the jersey— he’s going to go as a dead man because Lance has absolutely murdered him.)

** **

“My part of the costume,” He repeats dumbly, reaching up and brushing his fingers accidentally against Lance’s as he grabs the jersey. Accidentally. Definitely, completely, one hundred percent an accident. “Right, yeah, I am.”

** **

Lance takes a tiny step back, arms crossing over his chest in what Keith recognizes as a self-conscious motion. Keith watches his arms move, watches the muscles flex underneath his skin and feels his mouth get even more dry, despite the fact that he didn’t think it could do that. Faintly he knows he’s just standing in the doorway to his dorm, staring out at a barely dressed Lance in the hallway with a jersey in his hand but he honestly can’t bring himself to do anything else. He knows he  _ should _ , knows he  _ needs _ to, but he doesn’t  _ want _ to do anything other than continue to stare at Lance.

** **

Okay, so that’s not exactly true. He  _ does _ want to do other things— things that involve his hands and Lance’s hips or his lips and Lance’s neck— but he’d never do those things. Not only was he relatively certain that Lance didn’t want those things— at least he  _ had _ been relatively certain before Lance had showed up like this— but he also didn’t have the guts. Because Lance was his best friend. And Keith, well, he didn’t make friends that easily. He wasn’t willing to risk the great thing they had going for something like that. 

** **

So what if he wanted to fall asleep with Lance pressed to his side? So what if he felt the underlying need to protect Lance, to defend him, care for him and provide for him? So what if he often thought about grabbing Lance’s hand when they were out in public, making it clear to everyone in the vicinity that Lance wasn’t available?  _ So what. _

** **

They were  _ friends _ . And those were definitely totally normal friend things that in no way implied that Keith had a crush on Lance. Definitely. No crush at all, no way.

** **

(So what if Keith’s heart was fluttering in his throat at this very moment, his fingers trembling around the fabric of the jersey in his hand? That didn’t mean anything.)

** **

(Even he wasn’t believing his lies anymore)

** **

Keith nearly groaned out loud as he finally turned and headed back into his dorm, making sure to leave the door open so Lance could step inside. It was physically painful to tear his eyes away from the scene before him, to burst the bubble they had been living in, but he knew that something had to eventually give. And, logically— as much as logic often betrayed him— he couldn’t spend the entire night just staring. He’d go insane if he did. Or he’d act on one of those  _ totally-innocent  _ desires. Lance followed suit, padding into Keith’s dorm just a step or two behind him, without a verbal invitation— something that  _ still _ made Keith’s heart do this ridiculous flip-floppy thing in his chest. 

** **

He’d realized he had a crush on Lance when he realized that the smallest of things took his breath away. 

** **

(And then he’d promptly denied it, shoving it down and pretending that he  _ didn’t _ have a crush on Lance.) 

** **

It was things like that— Lance knowing he had a standing invitation and letting himself in, Lance remembering his favorite drink and his class schedule and showing up to give him a coffee in between classes, Lance remembering to check in on how he did on all of his tests… the list could go on and on. The truth was that Lance was the nicest, most caring person Keith had ever met. And he wasn’t used to that.

** **

It wasn’t that his parents didn’t care, because they did, and they loved him. But his mom traveled a lot for work and his dad put in long hours day after day after day, so they hardly got to spend time together. And his parents tried their best, they really did, but they rarely remembered any of the small things. Besides birthdays and holidays, they were typically pretty out of touch with whatever was going on in Keith’s life. So it had surprised him when Lance had stormed into his life and taken over, noticing every little detail, remembering every little thing and taking the time to get to know Keith. It was… nice.

** **

(Nice enough to sweep Keith completely off of his feet.)

** **

Because the truth was, he knew that he had feelings for Lance. He denied them as much as he could, pushing them away and turning his back on them, but he knew they existed.. It was impossible not to notice the flutter in his chest, the inability to fight a smile, all of the really, pathetically cliche tropes that come with crushing on somebody. It was impossible for him not to notice  _ Lance _ , and he sometimes thinks that’s the clearest sign of all. 

** **

Trying to stop himself from falling further down the rabbit hole of thoughts, he shucked his shirt off in the middle of the living room, dropping it to the floor at his feet. He finally went to sort out the jersey and get it lined up right so he could slip it over his head when he noticed Lance’s face. Lance’s face, honestly, looked about like Keith would’ve imagined his face looked when he opened the door to find Lance standing on the other side in a cheerleader uniform. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes wide, and there was a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks.

** **

In an attempt to stop himself from dwelling too hard on what this expression could mean— his mind was screaming at him,  _ couple costume!  _ — Keith, who had finally sorted out the jersey, slipped his arms into the sleeves and pulled it over his head. By the time it was over his face and settled properly on his shoulders, Lance was no longer looking at him. Keith smoothed his hands down the front of his jersey, glancing down at it for the first time to realize that it, too, was blue and red. 

** **

They matched.

** **

They matched.

** **

_ They matched. _

** **

(If Keith wasn’t going as a dead man before, he sure was going as one now).

** **

Lance was barely clad in any clothing but the clothing he  _ was _ wearing was directly matching Keith’s.

** **

(If his brain hadn’t been short circuiting before, it was definitely short circuiting now.) 

** **

“You look great,” Lance managed to choke out, his voice higher than normal. He cleared his throat discreetly before trying again, “It’s very  _ you _ .”

** **

“Very  _ me? _ ” Keith repeated, surprised to find that he had a voice at all. His mouth still felt dry and he felt jittery all over. “I’m not even a little bit into sports.”

** **

“That’s not what I meant,” Lance replied and the teasing edge Keith was so familiar with was beginning to seep back into his voice. Somehow, it served to make the moment feel more intimate, not less like Keith would’ve expected. He was just counting down the seconds until he exploded. “I mean it’s very  _ you _ because it’s about as low effort of a costume as possible. I mean, you didn’t even get the jersey.”

** **

In response to Lance’s jab, Keith just rolled his eyes, In response to the silence that started to fall between them, Keith took a deep breath and finally said, “You look great, too, by the way. Really… great.”

** **

(And by great, he meant breathtaking and stunning and  _ unfairly _ alluring. But putting that into words didn’t seem right.)

** **

The dusting of pink was back on Lance’s cheeks as he stuttered out a thank you and muttered something about them being late to the party.

** **

(Keith hadn’t cared about the party to begin with and he especially didn’t care about it now that his other option was keeping a barely dressed Lance with him in his otherwise empty dorm. But the party was important to Lance and Lance was important to Keith so he relented, against his better judgement.)

** **

* * *

** **

The party was very full, as any college party was expected to be. The music was loud— so loud that Keith could  _ feel _ the bass bumping in his chest, becoming a second heartbeat and amplifying everything he was feeling. Now, instead of one heart racing at the sight of Lance’s nearly exposed ass, he had  _ two _ . He took a few steadying breaths in an attempt to get everything back under control but it was fruitless. The sheer number of people in the house forced Lance to be pressed to Keith’s side and Keith could distinctly feel the warmth of his bare midriff next to him. It was, perhaps, the single most distracting thing Keith had ever experienced.

** **

But then again, the way everyone’s eyes were trailing over Lance, lingering on his ass as he walked away was pretty distracting, too. But in a bad way.

** **

In a terrible, no good, very awful way that made Keith feel bitter to the core. Couldn’t they see that he and Lance  _ matched? _

** **

(Don’t say couples costume, he begged his brain, trying to get himself back in line. Don’t say couples costumes. But it didn’t matter, his brain was screaming it so loud that he was nearly certain everyone else would hear it, even over the beat of the music).

** **

Then again, he knew he couldn’t blame them for staring. Lance looked  _ good _ . Lance was tall and slender with these ridiculously long legs that were put on full display. He was lean and lithe and muscular in all the right places and— jesus, if Keith didn’t stop this train of thought soon…

** **

(Maybe not  _ stop _ the train of thought. Maybe just  _ delay  _ it, just hold it off until he’s home alone later tonight. He nearly groans at himself for it.)

** **

“Ah!” Lance seemed to perk up next to Keith and it startled Keith out of his very dangerous thoughts. He followed Lance’s gaze to find their friends huddled in a small circle next to the drink table. Friends might be a loose term, they were just people they’d shared classes with. Their real friends— their close-knit group of people— were hosting their own, smaller party over the weekend and avoiding anything big like this. Keith envied them.

** **

Keith expected Lance to go immediately for them, but he veered off slightly in order to grab a drink from the table. Keith followed him, no questions asked. But he did raise an eyebrow when Lance picked up his cup and turned back towards the crowd, not towards their friends. Not that he minded. He wasn’t at this party to be social. He was at this party because Lance asked him to come. As long as he spent time with Lance, whatever else happened or didn’t happen was irrelevant. 

** **

“Do you want to dance?” Lance asked, and there was something imploring in his eyes that suggested he was putting great stock in Keith’s answer.

** **

“I don’t dance,” Keith replied, but he refused to break eye contact with Lance. It felt significant, somehow, the weight of it settled comfortably in chest along his dual heartbeats. 

** **

“You don’t wear halloween costumes, either,” Lance took a step towards Keith and there was something distinctly bold about it. Keith could practically  _ feel  _ Lance’s gaze as it raked over him, “And yet here you are, costume and all.”

** **

Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the way Lance had stepped so confidently up to Keith. Maybe it was the way Lance wasn’t even trying to stop his eyes from trailing down Keith’s body at the mention of his costume, eyes lingering occasionally and mouth twisted into an appreciative smile. Maybe it was the fact that his brain hadn’t let go of the idea of the couples costume.Keith couldn’t say for sure, maybe it was a combination of all of those things. (All of those things  _ plus _ the sheer amount of skin Lance was showing because it was  _ definitely  _ related to that). All he knew was that he was suddenly gripping Lance’s hand and pulling him through the throng of people and towards the speaker the music was blasting from.

** **

Keith didn’t know how to dance. He didn’t know how to move his body fluidly— well, that wasn’t exactly true. He did have a tendency to be graceful, but he could never mimic that grace on purpose. It was sort of an ingrained trait that he could not replicate no matter how hard he tried to. Lance, though? Lance could  _ move _ . The way he could move those hips was sinful on a normal basis but in that ridiculously short skirt it should be downright illegal.

** **

(Which is to say that Keith enjoyed it. Immensely.)

** **

“No, no, no!” Lance teased, sliding up closer to Keith and placing his hands firmly on Keith’s hips, helping him sway correctly to the beat. “You have to move your hips like  _ this _ .”

** **

(Keith had died much earlier in the night, so at this point it was just his soul leaving his body.)

** **

“I can’t do that!” Keith protested, but he didn’t want Lance to pull away, didn’t want to stop feeling the impossible warmth of his fingertips through the fabric of his jeans. “My hips don’t move like that.”

** **

“They’re moving like that  _ right now _ !” Lance had to practically yell to be heard over the music and he leaned in as he did so, so close that his lips were right next to Keith’s ear. It took every fiber of Keith’s being to stop himself from shivering because he was certain, beyond a single shadow of a doubt, that Lance would feel it if he did.

** **

Keith swallowed against a dry throat and tried to yell so he, too, could be heard over the music, “That’s because you’re helping them!”

** **

“I guess I’m going to have to keep helping them, then.” Lance replied. And, before Keith could ask what that meant, Lance was pulling him forward until their hips were flush against each other, chests brushing.

** **

And then Keith  _ did  _ shiver, because what else was he going to do in a situation like this? His crush— that silly, barely there little thing— was no longer a crush. It was a desire. It was love. It was every strong emotion at once. Keith was overrun with them, incapable of sorting them out or making sense of them. The only thing Keith knew for sure was that he wanted this moment to stretch into eternity and then some. 

** **

Lance’s grip remained bruisingly tight on Keith but it was the sort of grounding feeling that Keith needed, something tethering him to the ground when he felt like he was floating away. Now, instead of guiding with his hands, Lance was guiding with his own hips, forcing Keith’s to move in sync with him. And Keith couldn’t deny that they fell into a rhythm easily, like slipping on a pair of well-worn jeans. They fit together, they moved together, everything about this moment was  _ right _ and  _ comfortable _ and  _ exactly as it was supposed to be _ .

** **

But then, because perfect moments can never actually  _ last _ , it all shattered.

** **

It all shattered into a million, billion,  _ trillion _ pieces on the ground when Lance stopped moving suddenly, yelping as he leapt towards Keith, spinning in the process. Keith was about to open his mouth to ask what had happened, to ask  _ why _ their perfect moment had been ruined, but his question was answered before it even left his tongue. There, standing behind Lance with his hand outstretched in a distinctive post-slapping position, was James Griffin.

** **

Lance had already spun around, a glare settling onto his face with ease. “Griffin,” he spat, “That’s  _ not _ for you.”

** **

“Why are you putting it out there if it’s not for touching, then?” Griffin drawled.

** **

Immediately, Keith’s blood was boiling. Roiling. Keith was ready to jump in, to take Griffin down, but Lance had never needed his protection. Lance, despite his outfit, was no damsel in distress. He was perfectly capable of standing up for himself and putting Griffin in his place and that’s exactly what he did.

** **

“I’m putting it  _ out there _ , as you so eloquently put it, for someone who  _ isn’t _ you. As, I’m sure, is every other person with a revealing outfit in this place.” Lance didn’t even raise his voice. The glare stayed on his face but that was the only betrayal of his emotion.

** **

(Still, it was a satisfying moment and petty part of Keith considered applauding just to drive the point home. He didn’t, but he knew he’d tell Lance about his urge to later— back when they were at his dorm in pajamas, watching some dumb movie on the couch— and Lance would get a kick out of it.)

** **

Griffin floundered for a second, caught off guard at the reaction and Lance took the opportunity to grab Keith by the wrist and begin to leave the crowd. Keith allowed himself to be dragged away, but not without stopping in front of Griffin himself and leaving a fairly imaginative threat in his wake. Keith expected Lance to lead them to their group of friends, but he still didn’t. Instead, he lead them up the stairs of the house and back outside, letting the cool night air wrap around them with a surprising amount of silence.

** **

“I’ll go in there and deck him for you,” Keith offered, even though he knew Lance would say no. He’d do it if Lance asked, though. He’d been looking for a legitimate reason to deck Griffin since the day they’d met because the guy never did anything other than make crude remarks and insert himself in conversations he didn’t need to be in. “Honestly, I will.”

** **

“I know you will,” Lance replied, leaning against the brick exterior of the house and shivering slightly, “But I don’t want you to and you know that.”

** **

“I know,” Keith sounded glum. And he  _ was _ glum, but it wasn’t because he didn’t get to punch Griffin. 

** **

(Okay so it was a  _ little  _ bit about not getting to punch Griffin after what he’d done to Lance.)

** **

He was glum because Griffin touched Lance’s ass. Because Lance had admitted that he was trying to get the attention of someone at the party. He was glum because their moment had been perfect, flawless,  _ romantic,  _ even, and then it had been ruined. What he wouldn’t give to go back to the basement and pick up where they left off— bodies flush against each other, breath mingling, bass in his chest like a second heartbeat. It was intoxicating. It was intimate. 

** **

It was, apparently, a sham.

** **

“We match,” Lance said suddenly, his eyes downcast. “You and I, our costumes match. In case you didn’t notice.”

** **

“I did notice,” Keith answered, but he wasn’t sure that was the right answer because Lance looked sullen. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, what information he was supposed to glean from the marching costumes. Not for the first tine, his brain supplied him with the idea of a couples costume, but he just couldn’t bring himself to believe it, to ask about it. “What does that have to do with—”

** **

“We  _ match _ ,” Lance emphasized, as if that fact alone answered everything Keith had been wondering all night long.

** **

It didn’t.

** **

“I—” Keith tried before sighing and leaning back against the house next to Lance. He could feel the rough edges of the bricks poking at his back and thought, distinctly, that it had to be uncomfortable for Lance and his bare skin. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that.”

** **

“Do you know,” Lance was clearly dodging outright saying what he wanted to say, clearly dancing around some topic that he found completely obvious. Keith wished he also found it obvious. “That I associate you with the color red?” When Keith didn’t reply— because he  _ still _ didn’t know what he was supposed to be saying back— Lance pressed on, “And you’ve said that you associate me with the color blue.”

** **

“Yes,” Keith said, because he felt obligated to say  _ something _ . “Because of your eyes.”

** **

Well, he’d wanted to say  _ something _ but he hadn’t wanted to say  _ that _ . Still, it was rewarded with a distinctly satisfying blush spreading across Lance’s cheeks. If Keith hadn’t watched the blush begin, it could have potentially been played off as the cold wind that occasionally came by, biting at their cheeks and nipping their noses. But Keith knew it was a blush, he could see how flustered Lance was feeling in the way he continued to fidget.

** **

“And our matching outfits,” Lance spoke slowly, deliberately, as if each individual word he said weighed a thousand tons. Keith gave each word, each syllable, his undivided attention. “Are red and blue.”

** **

And— okay, it was starting to click into place in Keith’s mind. But the thing was— was it  _ really _ starting to click into place or was he only hearing what he wanted to hear? Was Lance  _ really _ implying what he thought, or was Keith reading far too much into this? His brain  _ had  _ been saying couples costume all night, but was that also what  _ Lance  _ had been saying, just in fewer words? Keith took a deep breath that he hoped would calm him. 

** **

It didn’t. 

** **

“You said you were trying to impress someone with your outfit,” Keith offered, wondering if his voice sounded as jagged as his insides felt. 

** **

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, but he still wasn’t looking at Keith. Keith studied his profile, studied the freckles that mapped out different constellations across his exposed shoulder, studied the way his hair tried to curl around his ear because it was just the tiniest bit too long. “And? Are you impressed?”

** **

And then the world was crashing down around Keith, splintering at his feet and fundamentally altering everything he knew because holy shit Lance  _ was _ saying what Keith thought he was saying. It took Keith a minute to get his breath back and to figure out how to make words— what even  _ are _ words, anyways? Keith’s brain seems to have certainly forgotten.

** **

“Wait— you’re—” Keith shook his head, ignoring the way a few stray pieces of hair fell into his eyes. “ _ Me? _ You’re trying to impress  _ me? _ ”

** **

Suddenly, Lance was looking at him, blue eyes imploring and hesitant and Keith wanted nothing more than to kiss away the uncertainty there. “Well, the flirting wasn’t working so I had to try something else.”

** **

“Flirting?” Keith spluttered, “You’ve been flirting with me?”

** **

At least, to that, Lance smiled. He bit at the corner of his lip, eyes softening as he looked at Keith’s incredulous expression. “Keith, I’ve been flirting with you for a  _ year _ . It’s about time you figured it out.”

** **

Keith wasn’t sure what to say to that because the only thing he could think to do was dumbly repeat everything Lance said until he was able to grasp it. Which, to be honest, he wasn’t sure he was  _ ever _ going to be able to do. 

** **

(Lance has been flirting with him? Where had Keith been for that? Because he would’ve been  _ more than  _ willing to flirt back if he’d had even the foggiest idea!)

** **

Lance, at least, seemed to have more to say. He took a deep breath and pushed off the wall, squaring himself off in front of Keith. Keith was struck again by how capable Lance was, how brave he was to face this head on because, truthfully, Keith had spent a year denying it and hiding from it. “You  _ do _ know that I like you, right?”

** **

“I do now,” Keith replied after a moment and Lance burst out laughing at that, nearly doubling over as he did so. Keith couldn’t stop himself from smiling in response, that feeling of perfection falling back into the space between them, drawing them closer to each other. It had always been like this— the two of them together, teasing each other and laughing with each other and making it through any and every situation together. “For the record,” He added, once Lance finally gathered himself enough to stop laughing, “I like you, too.”

** **

Keith expected some witty response. Something along the lines of ‘of course you do, I’m irresistible’. He expected Lance to tease him in some way about being so dense that he hadn’t seen what was right in front of him. He expected a lot of things. What he did  _ not _ expect was for Lance to close the gap between them, pressing him firmly against the wall and kissing him soundly, like he’d waited a year to do it.

** **

Keith couldn’t help drawing Lance closer, pressing their bodies together and kissing him back just as thoroughly because he  _ had _ waited a year to do this. **   
**


End file.
